A few lines down, Stephen had checked the “Mistake” box.
Was that how he truly saw things? She smoothed her hand over the pages, pressing them flat against the hard desk. Could she add her own box? Check “Coward”?
She pushed back and went to the window. She’d never forgive him for this, calling the marriage a mistake, ending it on his assumptions, abandoning the relationship when they needed each other most.
However, Stephen had delivered his part of the bargain. He told her what happened to Carlos. And Corina felt obligated to sign.
A fresh cascade of tears spilled down her cheeks. She was tired of crying. After her evening on the memorial bench with Stephen, they returned to the house at Parrsons and Corina hid in her suite and spent a good part of Thursday there, weeping, remembering, praying.
This morning early, Stephen drove her back to the city with little conversation and dropped her off at the Manor. “The annulment?”
“I’ll sign it.”
But how could she? Corina sat on the window seat and gazed out over the city, her love for Cathedral City summer mornings nothing but a faint memory.
She glanced back at the annulment documents. Just sign and be done with it.
When her phone rang, she snatched it up, hoping for Stephen’s number on her screen. But no.
“Miss Del Rey?”
“Yes?”
“This is Clem from the Children’s Literacy Foundation. On your auction form you listed your local address as the Manor, but we can’t find such a place anywhere in the city listings or on the map. Where would you like us to deliver your purchase?”
“Right, the Pissarro.” She’d dueled for the piece with a stodgy couple who seemed to have no monetary boundaries. Well, neither did she. She’d not touched her trust from Grandmother Del Rey and the power of compound interest daily kept the one account very healthy. She could buy the Pissarro three times over.
She finally won the bid at ten million. The place exploded with applause. The Children’s Literacy Foundation would have a grand year.
“Where shall we deliver it?”
“To Prince Stephen in care of the King’s Office.”
“Pardon?”
“The King’s Office. Prince Stephen.” She picked up the annulment papers again. She’d purchased the painting for Stephen, because, well, she thought he would enjoy it. Call it a “We’re annulled!” gift.
“I’ll need a special form to deliver to the King’s Office.”
“Fine. Do you need me for that form?”
“I just have to call the King’s Office.”
“Then call them.”
“If there’s a delay, I will ring you. Otherwise the painting will be delivered tomorrow.”
Perfect. She flew home on Sunday. “With the note I wrote? Please include the note.”
“I’ll see to it.”
Hanging up, Corina returned to the window. The streets below were quiet for a Friday. The wind had room to move and expand, dragging its train through the trees along the avenue.
Street vendors worked the sidewalk, preparing for the lunch crowd. Taxicabs lined the curb, the drivers huddled together, talking, flicking ashes from their cigarettes.
Love well.
Corina picked up the annulment papers. Was signing them loving well?
